


Martyrdom in Plastic

by JForward



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Injury, Needles, Post-Episode: s12e06 Praxeus, Praxeus, Psuedoscience, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25787692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JForward/pseuds/JForward
Summary: She's always been so good at hiding when she's hurt. It doesn't help that she has a martyr complex to make a heady mix with that big dose of denial.It wasn't huge, but it was deep enough. Five slices, a cluster of three and then two, where flying claws had caught her flesh. She knew what it meant, of course she did ... but she couldn't let the fam see her hurt. She would be fine.
Comments: 43
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

  
The doors shut, and everyone let out a deep breath, relaxing. There was a general feeling of goodwill in the TARDIS, although a sense of loss gnawed at the Doctor's stomach. Ryan and Yaz were chatting, brightly, talking about what the trio might get up to - Adam, Jake and Gabriela. Off to explore the world, fight plastics, be heroes... maybe. But the Doctor's mind kept wandering to Suki. How badly she'd dealt with the problem. The Doctor would've helped her, without a question, without a thought. Even after she had brought Praxeus to Earth. Another loss that she could have prevented. Her hazel eyes drifted around the room as she ran a hand across the console, the rumbling hum and warm mental drift of the TARDIS giving her a little touch of comfort.

"So, uh," she paused, looking out across at the three of them, "How about I drop you home for a bit?" she suggested, with a little smile. Six eyes turned to look at her, all with various levels of concern colouring their expressions as the casual conversation died down. "It's been, y'know, long few days, thought you might like t'-"  
"So you can vanish off again?" Ryan asked, pointedly. The Doctor found her face drawing into a frown, the automatic defence rising to her lips. After their _conversation_ the last time, or, well, rather the telling off she'd gotten from them, it was a little clearer why Ryan said that. So the words fell away unsaid. 

"Alright, point made." she said, raising her brows and stepping back, turning back to look at the console. "Where d'you wanna go?"  
"Actually, Doc, if I'm bein' honest, I fancy a spot of dinner." Graham said, with a smile. Yaz rolled her eyes with a fond smile, Ryan popping up a grin too.  
"I'm with Granddad, actually." he said, "Definitely up for dinner."  
"I'll cook, think I'm getting the hang of all this fancy high-tech equipment you got, Doc." he said, brightly, "Especially now I've figured out where the TARDIS was hiding all the human food. Unless you wanna treat us to dinner?"  
She hoisted a slight smile onto her lips, most of the conversation having skated her by. Mundane, human things.

"Sorry Graham. Empty pockets." she said, with a shrug, holding her palms out flat, "Never carry money, never have."  
"What about that uh, psychic paper thing? Bet you could get us into a fancy place for free..." he quirked his brows at her, cheeky, boyish grin in place.   
"Graham!" Yaz's tone had shifted to exasperation, now, shoving him lightly in the shoulder. The grin on the Doctor's face was a little easier now, but she was still finding it hard to focus, eyes drifting back to the console, running over familiar controls, and the slightly concerned mental touch of the TARDIS. Alive, and sapient, in so many ways, but not able to communicate in any way that her human companions could understand.

"Alright, alright." Graham acquiesced, nudging Yaz right back. Ryan led the way, vanishing out of the doorway, hopping down the stairs. Hazel eyes followed him, feeling a little burst of pride. He'd gotten so much better with his dyspraxia, and although, of course, she knew well that it wasn't a condition that could be cured, he seemed to be doing so much better. He was trying rather than avoiding things, and he didn't seem to take it so hard nowadays if he stumbled or did something awkward. He just - laughed it off. She felt a little spark of pride in him, deep in her chest, somewhere between her two hearts. Eyes back on the console, now, she inhaled deeply, eyes shutting for a moment.

"You comin', Doc?" she startled, just slightly, a tensing of shoulders and a twitching of hands. Smile for the humans, pulling onto her face, turning back to glance at Graham. The kids were gone - although, of course, even Graham seemed immensely young to her - and he had paused in the doorway. She couldn't hold the vivid blue of his gaze, now, so very good at seeing through the layers. He might hide so much in that goofy exterior and cheese sandwiches and jokes, but the Doctor was plenty familiar with using a playful demeanour to hide intelligence and empathy. It made it harder to smile, resting her hips back now against the edge of the console, but she was still very much capable of her play acting.

"Nah." she kept her tone light, "I'm good. Probably just gonna get some repairs done. You go enjoy yourself." she said, lightly, "I'll make sure the TARDIS tucks away anything toxic to humans. She does like to play pranks." the TARDIS whirred loudly behind her, and the Doctor could feel the layer of offense to that, so the next smile was a little easier. "Don't you get offended, it's true." she patted the console. Graham always looked just a little uncomfortable when she spoke to the TARDIS like it was true.  
"I'll leave you a plate in the fridge." he said, nodding, "But feel free to join us, Doc. Any time." her smile became a little more muted as she nodded, a few blonde strands falling into her face. Finally he turned and left.

The Doctor gave him a few moments, listening carefully, her excellent hearing catching him as he padded away, and turned down the corridor to the kitchen. Shoulders slumped, head hanging a little, as she allowed herself to feel the low ache that had been lurking on her peripheral this whole time. The TARDIS chirruped as the pain ran between their connection.  
"Nothing to worry about." she murmured, automatically, and didn't miss the low beep, the frustration that everyone - even the TARDIS, it seemed - felt around the Doctor. "Need a mirror, though." there was a whirr and something on the console pinged open, a screen raising up. She didn't know if it was a camera or a true mirror, but it didn't matter. She looked at her reflection, the slight shadows under her eyes and gaunt edge to her cheeks. Never been vain, not really - okay, maybe a little - but she wondered how the companions missed it.

Maybe they noticed and didn't say. It didn't matter. Reaching up, she hooked a finger into the collar of her shirt and tugged it to the side. It stuck a little to her skin, probably how it had held so well, keeping everything covered. Lips pulled back, slight hiss between her teeth as it peeled loose. She had made sure to shift the collar and her coat over it, too, not wanting anyone worried. Dried orange-tinted blood clung around it, but the disturbance triggered it to bleed again, a sluggish flow. It wasn't huge, but it was deep enough. Five slices, a cluster of three and then two, where flying claws had caught her flesh. Her need to take their progress, diving through the swarming birds, unable to risk the human race to the awful disease. So she took a deep breath, considering the injury. Even now it was hot, a burning spot just above her collarbone, discomfiting. 

"Easy enough to deal with." she mumbled. "Synthesise a cure. Just a bit of blood, a bit of time." she wondered if she had a sample of her own blood on board, untainted. That would make it easier, but she couldn't remember if she had it on record. There had to be Time Lord blood on here somewhere, right? Or the recipe was in storage. Recipe? She rubbed at her eyes, letting out a tired little breath, and let go of her collar, allowing the slightly blood-stiffened fabric to hide the scratches again. She rested her hands on the edge of the console, ignoring the gentle pressure in her head to deal with it now.   
"It's fine. I have time." she said, gently, "Don't worry about me." she patted the edge of the console. "I'll drop the fam off and then deal with it. Don't want them worried." the console chirruped and there was a small burst of steam. "Hey! Knock it off." she muttered, without any real heat. "I can handle it."

She stepped back, resting a hand subconsciously on her shoulder, holding herself in close. Her eyes shut, taking a deep breath, ignoring the heat and the spike of pain.   
"Won't take long. Get started on it as soon as they're gone, okay?" she aimed this at the console, but there was no response, and when she reached out with her mind, the TARDIS stonewalled her. "Fine! Be grumpy." she shook her head, considering getting on with doing some repairs. But instead, she turned and moved away, walking quietly despite her big boots. She was perfectly capable of being quiet and graceful, she just rarely chose to. Down the stairs, a left, a right, following an easy path past doors and through tunnels ... and she could hear the sound of the fam. The lights warm and creamy on the walls outside the kitchen, laughing and joking. The smile that appeared on her lips was soft and easy, but her steps slowed a little.

She peered from the corridor, careful and quiet. Ryan was sat at the table, eyes fixed on the far side of the room. The smell of tomatoes, onions and garlic was pleasantly filling the air. Graham and Yaz were moving around the hob, Yaz apparently trying to add ingredients, Graham fending her off, waving a spatula threateningly. She was laughing, Ryan's face split into a wide grin.  
"If you put chilli flakes in my pasta, you will not live to regret it, sunshine," Graham threatened, as Yaz danced easily away from the flecks of juice on the spatula. 

But despite the warmth, something cold wrapped around the Doctor's hearts. She stepped away, feeling instinctively that this bright, human scene was not for her. Things would be different if she tried to make herself part of it. Instead, she stepped away, feet still quiet. She moved off down the corridor, away from the light and towards the dark space, one arm sliding to wrap around her torso. Shoulders curled more, feeling her whole self drooping, like someone had just placed more weight on her back than she could tolerate. Exhaustion dug claws into her far deeper than the birds had. She would take them home, and be alone, and deal with this like she always did.

The corridors seemed so dark and muted, after the light and the warmth. A slight shiver ran down her shoulders, jarring the injury, and she pressed her other palm more firmly against it. A shower, then she would rest for just a little bit. Drop them off, fix the Praxeus. She tried to remember where she had left her room, but it was hard to remember if she'd even been to it since taking this body. She thought of her younger self, about River, about - everything she had been, as him. Although, of course, sleep hadn't been much of a thing for him, either... towards the end, when she was truly becoming another person ...

Her shoulder collided with the wall and she stilled, breathing sharply, opening her eyes again. How long had she been wandering? The corridor looked infinite. After a moment she slid to her knees, turning her back to the wall, hands moving from shoulder to wrap the other side of her form, holding herself together. Hunching in over her knees, coat falling around her like a shield, she focused on breathing. On thinking. Not of the Master or Missy, not of her old self or her new self, on her companions, on her loss and death. She thought of Gallifrey, burning. She thought of Ruth, the fugitive, and all she had lost. She thought of things she couldn't know, lives she'd lost. Overwhelmed and shaking, like a ghost in a home that was no longer hers.

There was a subtle pressure change, and eyes snapped open, burning with hot salt-water. Blinking it away, she looked up, and saw a familiar door. Old, dark wood, with a name burned onto it in circular Gallifreyan. Standing slowly, the stiffness in her legs gave away how time had slipped from her in that moment, and she stumbled to the brass handle, turning it slowly.   
"Thanks, old girl." she whispered. "Just an hour or two. And then I can get to work." she slipped into the room, head still swimming and shoulder aching. So far away from her now, the sound of the fam laughing echoed in her ears, the joy not one part of her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and support, wow, I'm more than a little blown away (and also like one of my, fav fanfic writers, commented, and I'm just, what.) I'm still not quite sure what's gonna happen, this idea has been germinating for a while. 
> 
> This fic is set directly after Praxeus, just so everyone knows the timeframe.

  
Foggy eyes flickered open. The room was dimmed. The sheet was wrapped around her, tangling her legs, and it took rather too long for her brain to kick in, dragging it's way through a fog. Her whole body was aching, every part of it was stiff and uncomfortable. How long had she been out? Even getting into the bed had become a weird wash. She wasn't wearing her coat, her suspenders, trousers or boots. She still had on her shirts, and they were sticking unpleasantly to her skin. In fact, so was the sheet she was under. Everything was sticking. She sat up slowly, reaching to rub the back of her neck, disorientation making everything a challenge. Her hair was damp. How long had she been out?

Time didn't work the same on the TARDIS, although when there were humans on board she was quite good about keeping things relatively linear on board. The Doctor's perception of time, how she perceived multiple timelines all at once, always able to see multiple outcomes - maybe that was why deaths hit her so hard. Because in another timeline, Suki hadn't died, and she was able to see it, if she allowed it in. And so she couldn't allow it in, shutting down, always shutting down. Now that she was moving, though, the lights came up slowly, from almost true darkness - never actual true darkness, which would be bad for the humans on board - to a warm, amber glow.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, everything felt wobbly. Four poster, the same wood as the door. That was usually the same. It was square, but the size and position of the bed often changed, rarely used as it was. The room was dusty. That had to be a deliberate choice, of course. She stumbled up, the lights a little brighter, legs shaking as she moved over to look at a chest of drawers. Dark wood again. On top, in matching frames, dozens of pictures. Prominent was River, smiling at the camera in her usual way, but with a little bit of glee in her features - catching him in the process of taking the picture. Trembling pale fingers reached out and pressed the frame face down so she didn't have to see it. Instead, her eyes went over the ones behind it. Amy, Rory, Clara, Nardole, Bill, all standing - rather prominent. Behind them, Mickey, an old picture of Jack, and - Rose. That picture had spent a long time face down. She remembered vaguely straightening it, standing it up, finally able to look at her face without pain.

And now River was in the same position.  
"Gotta get some photos of Yaz and the fam." she murmured. "Won't be too hard." the words felt wrong in her mouth, sticking and catching. She didn't look further back, not wanting to see older companions, knowing the faces that would jump out. Sarah-Jane, Tegan, Adric, Ace, Romana, Susan.. no. Not now. She couldn't handle that now. The off-kilter feeling wasn't going away, and she reached up to touch the sticky patch on her shoulder. The sensation was almost burning hot. She hadn't had a shower, clearly... glancing at the pile of clothes on the floor, she frowned sluggishly. 

The dust was a sign. A little nudge that she wasn't spending enough time resting. Time Lords weren't like humans, of course, she could go very long periods of time without sleeping. But she needed more sleep than she ever had. The fam had caught her once or twice, passed out in the console room after pushing herself for adventure after adventure. A few hours every couple of weeks was enough, but she usually didn't even let herself have that. And the only way to rest without being tormented by nightmares, even if it didn't always work... she jolted. How long had she been standing here? The fuzzy feeling was getting worse, not better. Rubbing a hand through her hair, she could feel an unpleasant amount of sweat sticking to her. Something bubbled in the back of her head, about how hot she had to be for her advanced Time Lord body to be sweating.

Shower. She had to clear her head and skin. Pushing through into her en suite, the Doctor took a deep breath. It didn't look quite like a human bathroom, as Time Lords were immensely more efficient than humans, but the shower - again, really not used as much as she should, considering how often she ended up covered in goo or oil. She paused in front of the mirror, peering at herself. The same gaunt edge to her face as she'd seen last night, or however long ago she'd fallen asleep... carefully, with a little difficulty, she unstuck her shirt from the wound, gritting her teeth and dumping it aside. Next came off the sports bra. She could see dark orange smears of blood around the injury site, dried patches, and taking her shirt off had triggered it to bleed again. The skin was red, inflamed, and aching. 

Letting out a soft curse, she peered a little closer. The wound was swollen but around it she could see pale, off-white flecks. The start of the infection. Apparently it was moving a little faster than expected. After a moment, she slipped off the last of her clothes, turning on the shower to it's usual pleasantly warm temperature. Then she stepped in carefully, hissing as the dried blood began to drip off. The wound stung, but she endured it, although the water felt cold. Like ice. She shivered, reaching back to dial it up, more and more until finally it started to feel warm. Steam was billowing around her, far, far hotter than it usually was. It felt good, though, washing away the sweat off her skin. And when the stinging on the wounds died down she was finally able to clean them. Wooziness began to make itself know, but being clean was better.

Finally she shut the water off and stumbled out, wrapping herself in a fluffy towel, taking her time to get dry. Head as clear as it had been for a while, she scooped up her clothes, padding back into the seldom used bedroom. It was clean now, the dust gone, and she saw a new set of her clothes sitting on the bed. Dropping the others into her laundry hamper, she smiled just a touch.  
"Thanks, old girl." putting the clothes on as quickly as she could, although having to stop every so often for her fuzzy head. Now able to focus better than before her shower, at least... she was able to align her sense of time, aware she'd been down for a few hours. The fam were probably also asleep.

Padding into the hallway, damp hair curling around her ears and holding her clean shirt over one arm instead of wearing it, the Doctor listened. She couldn't hear them anywhere near, and so she moved through the corridors to the medbay. Pushing open the door, there was a rush of cool air and the smell of antiseptic almost made her stumble back. Okay. Steady. The TARDIS made a soft humming noise.  
"It's fine." she murmured, digging in messy drawers until she found a bandage, carefully covering the injuries then sliding her shirt on, grimacing. A screen flickered to life and it took her a moment to focus. "Okay. Bit of a temperature. I'll be fine." she said, quickly, before digging until she found what she was looking for.

Very little worked on Time Lords, of course, but she had a few things that would. It would take her fever down, allow her to focus. It would be fine. Swallowing it with a swig of water, she smiled at the screen. "See? Totally fine. Gonna go do some repairs, then I can drop the fam off in the morning and they won't know anything." there was a nudge in her head but she shook it off. "Don't worry, I got this." she patted the frame of the door as she headed out, wandering back through the passageways, past the kitchen.

The room was dim now, the smell of food mostly dissipated, and she peered in. They'd cleaned up, a row of plates drying on the rack, although she always told them the TARDIS would do it. She smiled a little, fondly, ignoring the aching emptiness in her hearts. Already she was feeling a little better, most of the heat dissipating as the fever-breaking drugs got to work - making it easier to push her discomfort and worries away. There was a light on under Yaz's door when she went past, but Graham and Ryan's were dark. She hesitated, considering going in, but decided against it. She didn't want to bother Yaz, after all.

The console room was dim when she went in. The TARDIS was clearly still against her plan, hooting angrily when she pressed a few buttons to push the lighting up so she could see.  
"Knock it off." she said, pointedly, "I'm fine. It's not advancing that fast. There's barely any plastic, and it's only on the infection sight! I'll deal with it, just. Not when the fam's on board." she didn't want them to see her suffering, and the risk of them finding her, trying to fix the infection, it was too much. She had her coat nearby, ready to pop it on, make sure the bandage on her collar was hidden. 

Slipping down under the console, she started to work. Every so often her head would swim a little out of focus, but on the whole, the drugs were working for now and she felt fine. Not that they would really last for long, of course, but still. She was able to let time slip away, absorbed in the fixing, until she drifted into a light doze, a spanner in her hand, resting against the internals of the console. Her body ached in her sleep, trying to fight the infection as it dug deep plastic claws into her. When she stirred it was with a jolt, to the sound of feet on the grating above her.

"Doc? You up?" Graham called. She grabbed her coat, tugging it on, hopping up and ignoring the waver in her legs.  
"Doin' some repairs, Graham." she called up to him, and he peered down at her, offering a smile.  
"The kids aren't up yet, you want a cuppa?" he asked, as she extricated herself, popping a head up through the gap. "Wow, love, you look awful." he added, frowning just a little, "We did come look for you before we went to bed, but we couldn't find you anywhere."  
"Oh, I was doing maintenance in the engine room." she invented, quickly, "Sorry." wrinkling her nose a little, she crawled up, ignoring how much strength it took. "Cuppa'd be great, Graham. We're in orbit at the moment." she added, "We can drink it in here." caffeine, sugar, tannins. Sounded like a great idea, actually.

She took a moment to get herself sorted out, and when Graham came back in, she'd opened the doors and perched there. He came over, handing her the tea, and then sat next to her. They looked out at a nebula, and she could see it reflected in his eyes.   
"Doc..." he said, after a few minutes passed with nothing but sipping. "D'you ever get used to this?"   
She glanced around again. "To what?"  
"The - the enormity of it, y'know? You see everything like this. Immense. And then there's us, on Earth, wandering along, just - tiny people living tiny lives. I don't understand how you can want anything to do with people. I'm just a bus driver." he sipped his drink again, resting it on his lap.

She took a moment to think. Talking to Graham about things like this, deep, emotional things, they were hard for her. She wasn't perfect. She didn't have answers or solutions. Her shoulder ached.   
"That's what makes humanity special, to me." she said, softly. "What did you like about being a bus driver?"  
"Oh, so much." he said, immediately. "The camaraderie with your drivers. Getting people where they need to go. Taking pride in your job, y'know. Been doing it since before we had fancy computers or - or Uber or anything." he smiled. "Seen it all on my bus, me."  
"But you get rude people, right?"  
"Oh, yeah. Loads. Threats and all sorts. Don't phase me, though. The good people in your life, they stand up for you. The regulars, y'know?"

She smiled, and sipped. "Thats what humanity is to me. You get the bad apples, but I don't pick 'em. I pick the good ones. The ones who know that being a bus driver is important. The ones who want to make things better. The ones who can see this - enormity, like y'said - and stand up and say, despite it all, I'm human. And the things I do matter. That's you, Graham. And Yaz, and Ryan. It was Grace, too." her voice softened a little, and quiet fell once more, the TARDIS drifting serenely in the sky as they watched the galaxy working away, for no reason other than it was what it was meant to do.

"I think you're right, Doc." he said, finally. "We should probably go home for a bit. I know Yaz promised Sonia they were gonna have lunch together. Ryan wants to see his mates. I fancy a game of cards and playing with you is impossible."  
"Oi! Not my fault you don't know how to play Mandrakian Snap."  
"My hand still stings from that." he responded, scowling, and she grinned, dropping her head a little.  
"I'll drop you guys off home." she said, quietly. "Let you have a day of that. Mundane life and all."  
"Don't go running off on us, Doc." he said, gently, eyes focused on hers. She glanced, then turned her head away, unable to hold the intensity of her gaze. "Don't come back all hollow and hurt again, please. We're your family. You have no choice now." he added, with a hint of a grin.

"Thanks, Graham." she drained her cup and hopped up as Yaz and Ryan came in, calling out greetings. Graham turned to say hello, getting up as well, all of them distracted enough to not spot her slight stumble, the way she gripped onto the door to avoid falling out.  
"Right, fam. Go get some breakfast." she said, brightly, "Gonna drop you off. When do you need to go, Yaz?" she added, "For your lunch with your sister thing. Lunch with Yaz's sister, sounds great." she moved over to the console, putting down her mug, inputting the co ordinates she was given. And half an hour later, she dropped them off, Graham's words of concern in her mind.

The TARDIS nudged at her as the door shut. She should go and get started. Get the treatment going. She could but - Nah. And as she was about to go, ignoring the angry nudging in her brain, planning to hop forward and pick them all up and stoically ignore the pain in her shoulder - everything changed, and any plan she had was violently pushed from her mind.

"I have time." she murmured, before chasing a signal all the way to Syria.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This leads into the ending of Can you Hear Me and everything that follows now is post that episode.
> 
> Thanks for the support, guys! Enjoy the psuedoscience.

  
Something to focus on was good. She kept her head clear, ignoring the aching, ignoring the pressure. She could save worlds. And maybe she should've seen through Zellin's plan, and perhaps she would have, if it hadn't been for the rising temperature crawling up her neck and the discomfort in her shoulder and a new, strange ache low down on her side which was worrying, and sore, and distracting. But it didn't matter, in the end. And perhaps because of her condition, her mind went somewhere else. Frankenstein. The original, brilliant monster, from a fantastic mind, and if she kept running, kept moving, it wouldn't matter.

And the general feelings of disquiet from the fam, and the unhappiness in Graham's face because she hadn't had a good answer about his fear, with her mind getting foggier by the second - the TARDIS lurched as they pulled the lever. They all fell away, and as she moved back to fly, something pulled in her side and she wrapped an arm around herself with a low hiss. Yaz's eyes fixed on her as the fam pulled themselves up to the console again. Ryan's eyes were watching the crystal in fascination, Graham was focusing on standing up, but Yaz stepped in closer. Her hand reached out, resting on the Doctor's arm for a breath. Startled by the contact, the Doctor looked around at the young woman, who's eyes moved immediately to from her face to her collar.

"Doctor." Yaz's voice was surprisingly quiet, as the TARDIS whirred. "You're bleeding." hazel eyes flickered down, able to just about see the trickle of orange-toned blood coming from her shoulder.  
"Oh, it's nothing." she said, softly.  
"Did the monster get you? Tahira's monster?" Yaz asked now, face intense, "Did you get scratched."  
"No." she responded, quickly, feeling a little bolt of panic, raising her hand to press over the bloody patch. She leant in to flick a few more switches and her head wobbled badly. Swallowing hard, she clenched her jaw again, and then threw the large switch again. The TARDIS stopped, humming lowly.

"Better head to the wardrobe hall, get some clothes." she said, faux-bright, "Georgian era, I got the TARDIS to reorganise the hall after our uh, last, escapade there." she kept her hand over the bloody patch. "Go get yourselves all dressed up, I'll be down in a minute." she said, still bright. Graham clapped Ryan's shoulder, and the pair of them headed out of the room, chatting happily enough. But Yaz didn't move. Her eyes stayed fixed on the Doctor, narrowing just a little.   
"Tell me what's wrong."  
"Yaz, it's nothing -"  
"You told us you were going to share." she said, sharply, "You said you were going to trust us -"  
"I never said -"  
"Doctor." she almost snarled it, and the Doctor found herself wincing, drawing back from Yaz. Frustration thrummed through her skin, so many questions, and her side was aching worse by the second.

"Let me see? Please." her voice had softened, almost wheedling, and the Doctor couldn't bring herself to look at Yaz. She moved her hips back, resting against the edge of the console, and reached up to slide back her coat and the edge of her shirt, revealing the pad of gauze she'd attached. Orange-tinted blood had stained it and was now bleeding through.   
"I'm going to remove this." the Doctor couldn't find the words to respond, nodding mutely, her throat bobbing a little. She didn't want Yaz to see this. It felt like failure. But her hands were delicate, and she paused as her fingertips brushed over the pale skin there.

"You're burning up." she murmured. "You're warmer than me, Doctor, and you're always cold."  
"You noticed?" she gave a faint smile, unable to help it. Oh, Yaz always noticed, didn't she? She was so sharp, really. "I might be running a little bit of a fever."  
"Y'really are a moron." Yaz tutted, and the Doctor scowled, a wave of irritation rolling over her. "You did all that, all that running around, and you have a fever?" she pointed out, all narrowed eyes as she carefully peeled back the bloody gauze. Then she went quiet.

The Doctor tried to angle her head down to see what was going on, but she was at the wrong angle. All she could see was the bloody smear. Yaz's hands were trembling, she could see that at least, and she could feel the gentle, almost cold touch - and that was really alarming. There was sweat on the back of her neck again, sticking to her hair, unpleasantly clinging it to the skin. Actually, Yaz on her skin felt really nice, really.  
"This is Praxeus." the whisper broke through the fog, at least, and she jolted slightly.

"Ah, yeah, I got - scraped. It's fine. I have a really good immune system, don't worry. I was gonna get it all fixed up whilst you were at home, but then Tahira happened." she said, faux-bright, "I'll get it sorted."  
"You weren't going to." Yaz murmured. "Were you? We were going to run off to meet Mary Shelley and you're sick. You should be curing this, or resting, not - not this. What if you burst into plastic in front of her?" the concern was touching, but totally not needed, not really. She was fine, she would be fine, she wasn't worried, not really.  
"It's not a problem." she mumbled, maybe just a little more cowed than she wanted to admit.

"Doctor." Yaz's voice wasn't firm any more. "This is serious. Come on. Do you need to go back to Suki's lab?" she asked, "I know you did some of it here, can you reuse the same stuff?"  
"Yaz..." she didn't mean for it to come out like that, not soft and a little scared. And the lines drew away from Yaz's features, more worry showing by the second.  
"No. Don't." she murmured, "I can see the plastic, Doctor -" she paused. Her eyes had drifted down. The Doctor had changed into the blue shirt over the deep maroon one, and apparently that had been a mistake - because the part of her side that had been aching was bleeding through.

She didn't say a word as Yaz took her hand and pulled. She tugged the Doctor out of the room, face hard and silent. The Time Lord did her best to ignore the low aching in her side as she was moved, jaw tense, and the first room they came to was the medbay.  
The TARDIS had a smug feeling pushing into the Doctor's brains, causing her to scowl harder.  
"Traitor." the word slipped from her lips, but if Yaz heard it, she didn't respond. The last time they'd been here had been when Ryan had cracked her across the nose with his Switch controller.

"Sit down." the voice brokered no argument, and for a moment, the Doctor felt like a child. Yaz reached out and tugged the coat over her shoulders, putting it aside, and the Doctor parked herself on the edge of the bed. The gentle hands reached up, sliding off her suspenders, and gripping the edge of the Doctor's shirt. It was invasive, personal in a way she couldn't quite explain, even if Yaz had been the one to teach her what bras were. And when the fabric was pulled away, the Doctor let out a slight hiss as it clung to her bleeding side.

Yaz hesitated, and then took the shirt off completely. Dumping it on top of the Doctor's coat, expression all business now. The flesh-coloured sports bra that the Doctor wore was no focus, after all; instead the patch of shards of plastic that were clearly growing on her side had drawn Yaz's attention. She touched the skin with a butterfly-light touch, and the Doctor made no comment, even as pain daggered through her side. She knew Yaz was doing everything in her power to be gentle, but there was no doubt that there was something running deeper.

"This looks bad, Doctor." she said, lowly. "You need to start fixing this. You did it for Adam - it won't be hard to do it again, right?"  
"No. It won't be too hard. I mean - Time Lords are, infinitely more complex and I'm not sure I have any untained blood on board but - it can't be that hard!" she tried to inject some confidence into her tone, even if she absolutely wasn't feeling it.  
"So, we have - this place." Yaz gestured vaguely. "You can do it, right? Or do we go back to Suki's lab? It's probably still there. Aramu would let you use it." she added, "And me, Graham, Ryan - we'd all help."

She found herself smiling just a little, reaching up to poke gingerly at her shoulder.   
"Yaz, I didn't want any of you to know about this." she said, softly. "I still don't. I was going to handle it, I'm more than capable - ow!"  
Yaz had smacked her on the shoulder, although, thankfully, not her bad one.   
"Shut up. We're your family, Doctor. You tell us things like this, and we help. Now, listen. You're gonna take us to Suki's lab, and we're gonna help you find a cure. If we knew how to do it ourselves I would put you on bedrest." she added, sharply. The Doctor grimaced, not wanting to think about how insufferable that would be.

"Come on." she took the Doctor's hand and tugged. "Let's go. No excuses."  
"Alright, alright." the Doctor reached for her coat and shirt, before pushing herself to her feet - before stumbling, legs giving way and pitching her to the floor as the air around her boiled and her lungs got heavy and the atmosphere was suddenly broken. The faint cry of, "Doctor!" barely registered and the world went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

  
"Hey. I got you. I got you. Come back to us. Come on, Doctor." the words were foggy, barely drifting through the miasma in her brain. Pleasantly cool hands were supporting her, wrapped around one side of her torso, the other on her cheek. For a moment she let herself hang almost in suspension, letting the world settle into place around her. Her head was aching, a low, throbbing pressure right in the base of her skull. She tried to push that away. Breathing felt just a little harder than it should be, and something was pinching her side. The other side to where the nice cool hands were, though.

"Doctor." worry. That was worry in the voice, wasn't it. A slight raise, a soft tone, octaves a little unbalanced. The TARDIS could change the words for her, make them into Gallifreyan, but she often didn't do it - she understood English well enough without any kind of circuit needed. When she'd been disconnected from her, plummeting through the sky and crashing through a train, the first thing this body had heard was English. Human language. So often the way. And as the thoughts burbled, it turned to the voice itself. Nice. Warm. Maybe that was where she'd picked the accent up from, although of course, lots of worlds had a North... she always liked a Northern accent.

Yaz's voice was nice, even worried. Yaz! That was her name. Yasmin Khan. PC Khan, Hallamshire police - why was Yaz whispering her name? Why was her side pinching? Her shoulder throbbed too. She should look. Yaz had a nice face. It was often tense, concerned, or focused, sharp, intelligent. Deep eyes and long hair and so many questions, so frustrating. But Yaz seemed to understand her more than anyone else did, how strange and confusing this new body was, like the pain that was currently rocking her. How could Yaz know so much, when she was so young?

Her eyes flickered open. Yaz was holding her, although a lot of her weight was shifted back against the console. Surprisingly strong arms, keeping her up. Everything shifted a little, a wave of orange light colluding with her eyes, but - there she was, coming into focus. Why did she feel so cool? Usually Yaz's skin was so hot that it felt almost like burning, but this ... maybe she was hot. Yes. Too hot, she felt it now, a low burning on the surface of her skin. And she groaned, a noise from deep in her chest, unintentionally escaping into the sweet air. Cool and delicious, despite the fact that each lungful caused the pinching in her side to worsen.

"There y'are." and Yaz was smiling, which was beautiful, so she tried to smile back. Lips spreading, perhaps just a little off, but awake. "Thought I lost you for a second, Doctor. I gotcha. Come on." she was tightening her arm and pulling the Time Lord upright. This wasn't the console room. That slowly became clear. She hadn't been resting back on the console, the light wasn't orange, now correcting itself to the vivid brightness of the medical bay. It was like her mind couldn't decide, couldn't settle, an awful disorientation like a million timelines crossing at once. Nausea bubbled, but she forced it down with a hard swallow, now able to support her own weight. Yaz's hands moved away and for a breath the Doctor mourned the coolness.

"Okay. You with me? Come on. Tell me a random fact, I know you've got one."  
"I met ghosts with Charles Darwin. No - no, not - Darwin. Um. Dickens. Charles Dickens. We met ghosts. They were spirits from another dimension that wanted corpses to possess. They lived in the gas lamps." she murmured, remembering a blonde, when she was taller and tougher with sticky-out ears, learning what it meant to love again. "Great guy. Long time ago now. Few thousand years."  
Yaz was listening as she moved away, returning with a wet cloth, pressing that to the Doctor's forehead. Her eyes flickered, groaning deeply.  
"You have a fever, Doctor." she said, gently now, "You feel hot. Really hot. I dunno how hot you're s'posed to be, but this is bad." Yaz paused, chewing her lip. "Can you fly? Take us to the lab? We can help you." she hated not knowing how to help.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can fly." she whispered, reaching up to move the wet rag, running it along her shoulders and neck, careful of the throbbing, infected cut. "Give me a mo', Yaz. Won't take long."   
Dutifully, Yaz stepped back a little, but everything in her position said she was ready; legs tense, one arm resting half-casually on the bed but gripping the edge, other loose at her side, hand ever so slightly curled. To dart in, if needed.

"Just be careful standing up, Doctor. I think the change in position musta sent your equilibrium off, which is pretty bad." Yaz kept her tone quiet, working on making sure there was no judgement in it, knowing the Doctor could rather have a tendency to ... overreact somewhat. Which often made life a bit difficult, when it came down to it. But the Doctor nodded carefully, taking a steadying breath, before she moved again. Leaving the wet rag draped around her neck rest there, a pleasant coolness. Okay. Taking it nice and slow, she braced her feet on the floor and finally got upright, and the world didn't waver now. It helped that Yaz was hovering, ready to help her if she stumbled.

She could tell that the human was worried about her ability to fly the TARDIS right now. She somewhat didn't blame Yaz, honestly, because her head was spinning unpleasantly. The heat in her shoulder and side was far worse than the general heat in her skin, a deep burning that felt like part of her was being shredded. She managed to move, finding herself getting steadier as she walked. Heading into the console room, Yaz stayed close at her side, and she moved to the central column. The TARDIS rumbled loudly, and there was a hiss of steam.

"I know, old girl, I know," The Doctor said, starting to turn knobs and dials, forcing her brain to remember how to get back to Suki and Aramu's lab. "I know." her head spun and she resisted to urge to rub at the patch of Praxeus on her shoulder. "But Yaz is right." she paused, breathing deeply, fighting the urge to rest. "We have to go back." she grimaced. The TARDIS gave another angry honk at her, blasting more steam, and the controls moved on her own. She stumbled back, Yaz's hands supporting her. The engines worked loudly, and they were shaken violently as the TARDIS flew. 

She found herself leaning into Yaz, who was standing solid, her skin cool and her stance unbreakable. It was comforting, with her head spinning more than she wanted to admit. Glancing a little sideways out of the corner of her eye, she could tell the way Yaz's dark eyes were utterly focused on every detail of her face, from this kind of distance. There was something touching about the concern her companions had for her, even if she was remarkably good at blocking them out and being in complete control of herself. Some part of her was still in denial about the pain in her side. A hand shifted, and she brushed her fingertips over the teeth of plastic that were emerging from her skin now. Jagged little edges, that threatened to cut into her fingertips.

"Doctor." there was a cool hand around her wrist, and they were jolted violently sideways, falling against one of the crystal columns. Pain, hot and raw and deep, deep inside her, rocked through her side where she struck it. Heat. Down her side, dripping blood where she'd caught the patch. Lunging away from the column, away from yaz, hands fell away from her as she hit a few switches. Breathing through the pain, controlling it as she took a little more command, the TARDIS' self-flying being as bad as the Doctor's, really. The drain was immense on the ancient machine, after all.

They landed with a thud as there were voices behind them, Graham calling ahead, confusion in his tone - questioning, wondering why they had taken flight. He was carrying several old pieces of clothing, straight from the eighteen hundreds. Ryan was the one who seemed to click something was wrong, hanging onto the edge of a railing.  
"Woah!" he exclaimed, "Doctor, why ain't you got a shirt on?!" he was twisting around in that awkward way when lads didn't know where to look, finally settling on staring pointedly on a pillar. Graham clicked and did much the same, but before she could answer, Yaz's hand was wrapping around her waist again.

"She's sick." Yaz's tone made the Doctor wince. "She got Praxeus -"  
"S'not that bad -" the Doctor found herself objecting, grimacing.   
"It is that bad! You're bleeding again - Graham, Ryan, grow up, she's wearin' a bra." Graham broke out of the awkwardness first, turning and slowly making his way over.  
"Praxeus? Doc, how did you get that?" he asked, seeing now. The bleeding patch on her side was growing worse by the moment. "You don't have plastic in your bloodstream like us, do you? For it to do that, um, that meta-thing you said it did?"

She shook her head.  
"Spent plenty of time on Earth, Graham." she mumbled. "Might not be saturated like humans but there's more'n enough in me to feed it." her hips had moved back against the console, with Yaz's hand resting just under the Praxeus patch.   
"Where are we?" Ryan was still pointedly not looking at her, she could tell out of the corner of her eye, his eyes focused up at the ceiling. Everything was definitely getting fuzzier again, rather a worry.

"Aramu and Suki's lab. Not long after we left it." she whispered. "After Gabriella, Jake and Adam are gone, plenty of time..." she groaned, the noise out of her throat unintentionally, scrabbling for her coat. The fabric was pressed into her hands, Yaz's concerned face drifting.  
"You can make a cure, right? Y'did it before." Graham said, quickly.  
"Graham." that was Yaz, defending her, and now helping her move her arms into the coat. She pulled it tight, ignoring the pain as it brushed over her side. She was able to wrap it around herself, hide any skin that wasn't supposed to be on show. 

"Let's go." the words were croaky. She felt Yaz close by as she stepped towards the doors. The world was still shifting unpleasantly, but it was more than enough. One foot after the other, double heartbeat running just a little too fast in her ears. Graham flanked her other side, and Ryan was just behind her. Despite all her confidence, she felt a little warm blossom in her heart that her fam had her back, no matter what.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy my psuedoscience.

  
"We got you, Doctor." Yaz's voice was quiet. She'd managed to land the TARDIS in exactly the same place, but walking across sand now was strange, disorientating, uncomfortable. She stumbled once or twice, shoulder bracing against Graham or Yaz for just a second, and they didn't speak. Focused, perhaps. Or maybe they were talking, but that low buzzing in her ears was getting more and more distracting. Why was it taking so long for her to keep moving? How far away was it? Lifting her head, feeling strands of hair sticking to the back of her neck unpleasantly, the sun felt unbearably hot across the top of her skull. The world pitched, and Graham's shoulder braced her up again. The stairs were close, and yet they were so far. It was quiet, but the noises of the birds and the sea mixed with the buzzing and obliterated everything.

"I gotcha, Doc." Graham sounded like his mouth was full of bubbles, and she had to look sideways to make sure there wasn't a waterfall of liquid dripping over his lips. He looked normal, if pale and concerned, blue eyes meeting hers with shocking lucidity. They broke through, shining like a beacon. Was he speaking again? His mouth was moving but only fizzing reached her ears.  
"She's getting worse." Yaz, sweet Yaz, so concerned. The words felt nonsensical, drifting in a miasma around her head, only the fact it was Yaz breaking through. Graham was saying something back, then squeezing her hand, and his skin was so pleasantly cool -

"Doc. Hey, Doc. Doc. C'mon." he tugged. Oh. She had stopped moving, that was why they were concerned. She managed to move again, and the steps seemed to rush up to her. There they were, and she was at the door, and it was locked, but she could fix that - scrabbling in her pockets, finding the sonic. It was so cold, and so heavy, and her traitorous fingers didn't want to hold it. Slipping through her grip, the noise of it hitting the floor echoed in her head. Leaning forward, she rested her head on the cool glass of the door, taking a moment before feeling the hand pressing into hers. Yaz, supporting the sonic. She pressed the button, and the door clicked, and they were inside. 

"Man, this place is still spooky." Ryan's voice came from behind her. Yaz was supporting her side, and a moment later she sunk gratefully onto a stool, blinking sluggishly at the documents that were scattered all over the table. There was a weird, unpleasant smell, but that seemed distant, too. "Aw, rank, this bird's still here." Ryan continued. "D'you think anyone's gonna come here, now Aramu's - y'know. The birds..."   
"I dunno, son." Graham said, "Anyone who cared about the place is gone, I think. At least no one'll interrupt whilst the Doc's making the cure."

"Aramu's dead?" she asked, blinking. That wasn't right, was it? The birds... she grimaced. A half-dozen timelines intersected in her head, and for a moment, she had forgotten which one he was in. "Of course. Of course he is. I knew that." she mumbled. "We have the lab. There's - Praxeus. Need to take a sample of my blood." she dug in her pockets for the device she'd used on Adam, sure she'd tucked it in -  
"Are you lookin' for this?" Yaz held something out, and when she reached up, the Doctor was able to take it. "It was on the top of the console after y'took Adam's blood, I thought it might come in useful."

"Well done, Yaz. Points." she smiled, unable to help herself, before pressing the device into her neck. But her traitorous hands weren't working properly, she couldn't get enough force, and it didn't even touch her skin. Grunting in frustration, she felt the slender fingers taking it.  
"How do I do this?" Yaz whispered.  
"Give it a sharp push, it'll click." the Doctor was able to remember that. "Barrel'll seal automatically." Yaz jabbed it in, and the stabbing pain was faint, almost nothing against the rest of the pain in her side.

"What do you need us to do?" Graham called. "We gotta help you, Doc. We know how this stuff works now, right? Won't take any time at all."

Science. That was all she needed. Science. To get her brain working, to push through it. She'd saved Earth from the eternals as the infection had built, she wasn't about to give up now.  
"Got a bloom sample." she straightened up a little, squaring her shoulders, ignoring the urge to crawl into a ball. "Blood. Blood sample." turning her head was perhaps too much, threatening to topple from her stool. "All I have to do is isolate the virus in my blood and build a retroactive antivirus in order to target and destroy the Praxeus. Pretty much exactly what I did for Adam, only I have to take into account Time Lord metabolism and antibodies. Which is fine! Because I have my own blood."

"Wouldn't you need, like, uninfected blood for that?" Ryan asked, frowning.   
"Okay, Ryan, no need to be a downer!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands - grimacing, because her skin was aching. She went to stand, the preformative confidence helping, and the world swayed alarmingly. Graham jolted forward, Yaz's position just behind her not quite, and only he prevented her from falling to the floor.  
"Doc." his voice was quiet and loud, echoing and muffled, all at the same time. Yaz helped her support herself back into the stool.

"Okay." the Doctor swallowed hard, "Legs are misbehaving a bit. Not used to running a fever." she admitted, with a faint, forced grin. Graham's eyes were fixed on her side, feeling stiffer by the moment. The plastic was metastasising faster, and she pushed down a very real feeling of worry that was bubbling in her throat.  
"Okay. Going to have to, uh, delegate, a little bit, sorry fam."   
"Doc, it's fine. Tell us what we need to do." Graham said, immediately, Yaz and Ryan nodding. They were all drifting in a fine haze, which wasn't helpful.

"Okay." she whispered, and wiped her sweaty hair out of her face with the back of her hand. "Graham, run back to the TARDIS, grab some towels and soak 'em for me, ice water if you can? I need to cool down. Bring them here for me." he nodded, and set off quickly, leaving the door half open.  
"Ryan. Can you go and find the stuff I wrote down last time? I can use it as a base." she mumbled.  
"Oh! I know where it is." he shot across the room, coming back with what she'd scrawled last time. Unfortunately her eyes were refusing to focus. She felt Yaz's hand rest on her back.

"Right." peering at the sheets at least made it look like she was in control. Have to run off memory, which was getting harder to do by the moment. "Okay. So. Hm." she rested her palms flat, trying to ignore the sweat and the shake. "Ryan, if you can, um, if - if you can - make sure the water filtration system over there is on and running - correctly -"   
"Got it, Doctor." he hopped up, then paused. "How will I know -"  
"There'll be a panel." she mumbled. "Red lights are bad."  
"Got it!" and then he was gone. She could hear Yaz's breathing next to her left ear, overwhelmingly loud.

"Yaz."  
"Doctor. I'm here. What d'you need me to do?"  
"Okay. I'm gonna need you hands for the delicate stuff." she whispered. "I need to get to the station with the microwave and look at my blood."  
"Microwave?"  
"Micro... um -"  
"Microscope. Okay. I gotcha." Yaz slid her arm around the Doctor and heaved her up. She let out a short cry as her side pulled, something unpleasantly crackling. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. Come on." it hurt like hell, but they got across the space, and she was in another chair, breathing heavily. 

"Filtration system looks fine." Ryan's voice was soft. "Doctor, are you -"  
"Don't." she breathed, and, bless him, Ryan went quiet. "Okay. Okay." swallow hard, swallow again, clear her throat, and a horrible thought occurred. She had to tell them what to do, because if she lost consciousness - "This is a powerful microscope. You- you don't know my blood. Okay. I'm going to do this bit. Yaz."  
"Yes."  
"You're going to make a base carrier for me. Not as hard as it seems, with all this tech. I'll be able to modify it. There's instructions." she whispered. Yaz glanced around to where the Doctor was gesturing. "Suki had a base set up to use on Adam. You can modify that."

"Okay. I'll try." she whispered, and moved away, "Are you going to be okay?"  
"You know me, Yaz. I'll do it - or die trying."  
"Don't make jokes like that." the pain in Yaz's voice made the Doctor's smile fade, and instead she turned towards the microscope again, determined to make her eyes focus at the very least.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I am sorry this is taking so long I'm so unfocused it's not even a joke.   
> Please enjoy more psuedoscience!

  
The work was complicated, but Yaz would be able to handle it. The Doctor knew she could have gone into more depth, explained the science, but right now, all the stuff about viruses and proteins and administration protocols and anything else that was complicated and sciency could wait. Yaz could follow the instructions with what was there, and she would work on identifying what they would have to tackle in her blood.

Her eyes were struggling to focus, which didn't help. Heat, endlessly burning in the back of her head. It didn't take long before she shook off her coat, and a moment later the door opened, Graham coming in.  
"Here, Doc." he sounded far away, but she lifted her head. He was carrying some towels, and a bucket full of water and ice. He pulled one out of it, hesitated a moment, then draped it over her back. The cold and the wet were a blessing and she couldn't help but groan a little.

"Thanks, Graham." she mumbled, feeling like they should be fizzling on her skin. Her head was slumped forward again, moving a hand to run over her forehead, feeling the heat there. The towel was already feeling too hot, but Graham was on it; he moved away the towel, and got her a fresh one. Feeling better with the ice-water trickling down her back, the Doctor managed to make herself focus well enough to start isolating the Praxeus in her bloodstream.

There was a jag of pain in her side, and her breathing caught a little. The ache was low and unpleasant, but this was sharp. More blades of plastic, perhaps, or now they were digging their way further inside her. Starting to turn the soft, internal flesh into the chunks of material, her body fighting against the alien invader but unable to do anything. Her throat bobbed just a little, taking a long, low exhale. Just focusing as best she could, hands starting to tremble, traitorous as they were. She had to get a grip. Graham was still hovering, not sure how to help other than swapping the damp towels. Their concern was touching, but right now, it was distracting.

"Doc." Graham's voice broke through the fog. She blinked fuzzily, lifting her head a touch, wondering how often he'd said that. A hand touched her shoulder and she startled, unexpected, twisting to look at it. Yaz was there, and her touch was so pleasant and cool. "You with us, love?" he asked, from behind her. The feeling of warm moisture running down her back was distracting, too, and it felt like all her senses were igniting, drawing her in every direction except the one she wanted. A few words filtered in, mostly 'bleeding'. Yaz was speaking now, but her words were lost. Static. Her side hurt. It really hurt. Turning her head felt like metal scraping on metal, a nasty grinding that dug it's way into her bones, but she looked. The patch on her side was already worse, and stained with orange-tinted blood, dripping over the white of the plastic and spattering in little droplets onto the floor.

"Doctor." Yaz. Focus. Focus, brains, focus. She blinked, reaching up to rub at her eyes, and forced herself to look at the young woman. Urgent. Something was urgent. She moved to stand, sure that action was the answer, but the moment weight settled onto her legs, it became clear this was wrong. Yaz and Graham were moving, concerned, and she was dropping, and there were so many cool hands, so pleasant against burning skin, and she was sitting again. What had Yaz said?  
" - y'playin' at -" the words were drifting in and out, and Yaz was mad, or hungry, or tired, she couldn't tell, human emotions seemed so foggy and distant now. " - bleedin' - you're burnin' up -"

"I know." that wasn't her voice, was it? It sounded all - drippy. Melting. Like her. Yaz's hands were keeping her pinned, now, and the touch was starting to feel wrong, even if it was pleasantly cool. "I can feel it, Yaz, m'not blind." that wasn't the right sensation. This was like regeneration sickness. Was she dying? She lifted a hand, turning it slowly, and whilst her skin looked more flush than it should, she couldn't see any traces of golden light. To her shock, a foreign hand wrapped around hers. It was slender and beautiful, with long fingers, and she found herself totally entranced for a few moments.

"Doctor." Yaz. Yaz's hand. _Focus_. "Talk to us. I can barely understand y'." she admitted, and now she was crouching, looking up, trying to stay in the Doctor's eyeline. That was good. That helped. "Have you done what you need to? I followed all the instruction, I think I did it right." she looked frustrated. "D'you hear me?"  
"Yeah." of course she did! "Why?"  
"Doctor." exasperation! She recognised that tone, smiling at her success, because that was good. "I just told you that three times. What did I tell you?"  
"Made the base." she mumbled. "I isolated the pathogen."  
"You did?" there was something shifting on her back, something moved away, and it was like she'd been dunked into an ice bath. Something cold touched her and she yelped, jolting - and then crying out as the skin on her side tore a little more.

"Stop, too cold, too cold." she mumbled, twisting to try to look at Graham, who immediately dropped the fresh towel into the ice bucket, now almost totally melted. There was water all over the floor, everywhere, but it was evaporating quickly in the Madagascan heat. She shivered violently, and felt even colder hands on her neck, trying to jolt away.  
"It's the fever, Doctor." Yaz whispered, "You're still burning up, it's just playing tricks on you. You need to tell us what to do." she insisted, and the words hung in the air between them. _Before we lose you_. It vibrated in her skull, as if their minds were connected, only humans were so very un-present, telepathically.

Ryan was suddenly there, a tall and strong presence even with his uncertainty. He'd grown into his confidence so much recently. Was she staring? Maybe she was staring. They were good, they were such good people, she always chose good people. Excellent people, wonderful, beautiful, brilliant people, and she realised she was smiling dopily at him now. Shivering again, it slipped away a touch as she swallowed repeatedly, her throat feeling suddenly thick and sticky. Uncomfortable. Reaching up a hand to touch it, her fingertips brushed her shoulder. She couldn't see properly, but the sharp pieces of plastic were there, creeping towards her throat.

"Alarming! Okay. Going to ignore that, going to ignore how scared I am," she thought, only to see Yaz floating in her view, as she rubbed against her throat. "Really don't want to suffocate on plastic."  
"We're gonna help you, Doc." Graham said, gently, and she jolted again - she'd said that out loud.  
"All I need to do is build the retrovirus." she whispered, shutting her eyes again. "I have a base, all I have to do is make something that can navigate my system and target the Praxeus. Easy-peasy."  
"How d'you do that, Doc?" Graham asked.  
"Is the filtration system working?" she mumbled.  
"Yeah, yeah, got it all up and working." Ryan said, "I had to fix up a couple bits but it's all green lights now." he rubbed the back of his head, "Doctor, you need us to help with this?" he added, "I mean, I know you're a genius but we're here, y'know? We wanna help."

"Thanks, Fam." the Doctor whispered, smiling shakily, forcing her eyes to open again. "So, um..." foggy, but she had to draw the science, and that would help. "So, um, you know - you know what viruses are."  
"'Course. Not that thick." Ryan said, immediately.  
"Retroviruses, they, uh, they go in and - and change your DNA. They mess around with things and - change it for good. Like - like HIV, right?"  
"I ain't keepin' up with any of this." Graham murmured, but the others shushed him.  
"Praxeus does that." she mumbled. "It goes in and changes things, it's how it turns you to plastic only that - that kills you. Of course." her throat bobbed. "But I'm gonna make a new one, a new - retrovirus, which'll target the Praxeus and destroy the cells, and grew new ones."

"Okay, I'm with you." Yaz said, softly, apparently buoyed by how well the Doctor was talking. Although she realised that Yaz was taking more and more of her weight, one hand on her shoulder and the other firmly gripping the Doctor's hand. "So that's what you did for Adam, for the humans?" the Doctor found herself nodding.  
"Retrovirus, released into the air, clears the Praxeus. Couldn't fix the birds that were infected but they'll die. And because s'a retrovirus, then once it's in your system, s'not coming out." she smiled. "Easy enough, humans."  
"But Time Lords - they're more complicated?" she whispered.  
"Lot more complicated." the Doctor found herself slurring again, shivering. "So I have to build that."

"Okay. So tell us what to do." she said, softly, and the Doctor tried to refocus. What could the humans do? Ryan, confident and sweet and strong but clumsy. Graham, kind, and gentle and emotive, but lacking in science. Yaz, strong and smart and so good at so many things but - a police officer, not good in a lab. She needed Suki, or - or the woman - from the lab. Why were words slipping away? They needed her. She straightened her spine and hissed.

"Water." she mumbled. "The - the filtration. You gotta - okay. I need - I isolated - um." she crunched her face up, breathing sharply. It felt like part of her side had been bitten out, a chunk gone, an agony she couldn't face right now.   
"S'okay, Doctor, come on. Stay with us." Yaz, so gentle and so scared.  
"The base, the base you made, Suki brought it," she whispered, "It's a cleaned retrovirus from her planet, one I didn't recognise, no longer infectious but brutally good at travelling through systems." she swallowed hard. "Human cure. It - Graham, go to the TARDIS. Ask for the cure. Just - just ask her. She'll give it to you, I promise." he nodded and was gone, she felt his solid presence vanishing. The door echoed loudly, and it took a few moments for that to finish rippling.

"What do you need us to do?" Ryan asked.  
"Okay. I'm going to isolate the same pathogen I made in the human cure," she kept her eyes shut, darkness was easier than light. "And when I've done that I'll need you to run the machine, Ryan, the - the - thing - spinny thing -"  
"Spinny thing?"  
"Mixes them all up."  
"Oh! Yeah, I know the spinny thing." he said, brightly. "But for now?"  
"I - I don't know." she mumbled. "Look some stuff up."

Yaz chuckled just a little, but Ryan frowned at her. She shivered again, so cold, so very very cold and her throat bobbed.   
"And what about me, Doctor?" she said, still softer. "Do you need me to stay with you?"  
"No. No, um. I need - you to make more of the base. If there's enough resources." she frowned. "Just in case."

"In case what?" she whispered.  
"In case it doesn't work."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P S U E D O S C I E N C E
> 
> Honestly tho I've been learnin loads about retroviruses and stuff for this fic.
> 
> Anyway! Thanks so much for the comments, folks, you're really helping me stay motivated on this fic.

  
Isolate the proteins.

_Listen to your brain, dripping out of your ears, running in nasty dribbles down your neck._

Isolate the proteins, find the Praxeus, tiny white particles.

_Skin burning, bubbling, melting, but freezing, cracking with ice at the same time._

Isolate the proteins, find the Praxeus, your cells are attacking it, but they're losing.

_Tighter and tighter, gripping claws into your side, digging in until they hit lung._

Breathe.  
Breathe.  
 _Breathe._

"Got it." the proteins, there they were, drifting in a miasma, clumps of cells drifting away. The very immune system that was supposed to protect her was being metastastized, and although this blood was separate from her system, it still twisted pain into her gut in a way she couldn't begin to quantify. It ached deep in her chest, and she had to breathe deeply, only that was getting harder, the pinching on her side painful. She shivered, and her skin ached, and the wonk in her head was getting worse, not better. But she could see it now, the Praxeus cell. 

Working with a very fine needle, the problem was her hands - they were shaking, too hard to isolate it. Something moved, air displaced, and then some thing cool took her hand - steadying it.  
"Gotcha, Doc." Graham. Right next to her, she could feel his skin, "You steer, I got you steady." he couldn't see what she could see but he led her hand, and together they drew out the Praxeus, isolating it. When she pulled back to look at the tiny droplet of blood in the needle, she smiled.

"Okay. This is progress." she whispered, swapping to a new Petri dish. Graham had backed away, now leaning hips against the table. He was floating in her peripheral vision, apparently ready and capable of helping. She could hear Yaz, working away, soft clicking of instruments as she prepared more of the base solution that the Doctor would need. The golden liquid that had cured Adam sat neatly in a vial on the counter, waiting for it's turn. When she was able to focus, things were working, things were good. But breathing was aching, twisting - she could feel the Praxeus turning her lungs. Softer flesh, easier to make into plastic, locking it into stillness and ripping the tender organs around it. She didn't say anything, though. Complaining would solve nothing.

She didn't want them to know how weak she was.

"Ryan, y'busy?"  
"I'm here." he had been sat on his phone, shaking fingers searching up any information, anything he could find about what she had been talking about. The internet had given him some info, at least, although some of the techniques the Doctor talked about were so - futuristic, he couldn't understand.  
"I need you to do me a favour." she reached out, shaking fingertips barely enough strength to grip one of the vials, passing it to him. "Go to the other microscope for me, look at this, you want to find - find the, um - the -"  
"Take your time, Doc." that was Graham. She wanted to smash her head into the counter, claw her skull open, rip out her brains and hand them over for him to find the information that was refusing to come out.

"We don't have time." she hissed, smacking her palm down on the counter. It came out pathetically, a slap that didn't boom or echo or draw attention, and she was ashamed at that. Throat bobbing again, she took another deep breath, ignoring the copper taste that sat in her mouth.  
"I've isolated - the Praxeus protein, the - the virus itself, I've found it in my blood. I need to separate the retrovirus from the solution I made for humans." she mumbled.   
"Doc, I dunno how to do that." Ryan said, "How can these microscopes even see that? I was lookin' on the internet, it said -"  
"These aren't human microscopes. " the Doctor mumbled. "Suki must have brought them from her planet, Ryan." her throat bobbed, "It's why they're working. You'll be able to - to see it -" she groaned, head drooping.

"Doc. Stay with us." that was Graham, so sweet, so concerned. Her head felt like it was floating a few feet above her head.   
"We need a scientist." Ryan hissed, "Gramps, I dunno how to do this. We need smart people, I ain't -"  
"Eh! Don't talk about yourself like that, Ryan!" Graham interrupted. She wondered why they were talking around her like that. She wanted to lay down. Her mouth tasted disgusting. There were hands on her again, and static. 

"Doctor." Yaz was there, hovering, and her voice pushed through. There were three of her, shifting and wobbling around, but she tried to fixate on the centre one.   
"Hey. Hey." there was a thumb stroking over the back of her hand, and for a moment it was all she could think of, even with her skin aching unpleasantly.  
"We have you, okay? We're with you. I made as much of the base as I could. What do you need me to do? Focus." the fingers had moved and were now brushing over her cheek, tucking hair behind her ear, whilst it tried to stick to her skin.

"Isolate the retrovirus in the human cure." the Doctor slurred, eyes shutting again, letting cool darkness comfort her. "I need to make an immuno-suppressant. For myself. And then - then we combine it -" she exhaled sharply. "And that'll fix me."  
"Sounds easy enough." Yaz whispered. "Can you do it? I know you're tired, Doctor, I know you're in pain, but we need you. We can't fix this." 

She made herself smile, although she couldn't think clearly any more.   
"I know. I know, Yaz." shaking, traitorous fingers. She lifted them, stroking them over the warm cheeks, and tilted her head a little. Yaz's eyes were shining, and the fear that she would cry gave her just a little boost. "I can do it. I'm going to do it." she clenched her jaw, then dropped her hand. "I promise, I'm gonna do it, Yaz."

Yaz nodded and moved back.  
"Help me up." their hands moved, and there was Graham was on the other side, and they moved her with her needle in hand. "I need access to the materials here, the computer." they managed to get her to the other bench, the fridge of carefully-held chemicals, the pipettes and tubes, and a laptop sat open and ready where they'd abandoned it.   
The Doctor slumped into the seat, ignoring the clawing plastic on her side, the blood now staining the waistband of her trousers. She reached out, tugging things closer, and got to work.

Grateful, of course, for the hovering Fam, helping where she needed them. Every so often she would need support, checking a microscope or reaching for something her trembling fingertips wouldn't grip properly. Graham forced her to sip water, shifting the wet towels across her back whenever she needed it.

Ryan was there, monitoring the centrifuge, making sure it ran as it should. Then they had it, pale blue with flecks of gold. Yaz was tasked with the injection, Graham holding the Doc still as she pressed it into the pale wrist, making sure to catch one of the double pulses. And then they waited. 

A long, slow breath escaped the Doctor. It tingled and stung in her arm. How long had it taken Adam? Minutes? The cure had been fast, effectively stripping the plastic away. Her head lolled back, neck weak, feeling like rubber. Graham stood there, supporting her, and the strong beating of his heart against the back of her head was a comfort. They waited. And waited.

The plastic in her side ached. Her eyes burned with the light, her skin crackled. She breathed in deep, taking a moment of clean air. Crackles deep in her chest, in her side, something ripped, and she coughed to clear the obstruction. Worse and worse, the pull, more blood flooded her lungs and Yaz was holding her as it spattered on the floor, eyes full of hot tears, stinging and throbbing.  
"Protocol One." she slurred, past the mouthful. It was important, so important now, they had to know. "It's protocol one. Yaz." she clawed her fingers into Yaz's shirt, hating that she was crying. Regeneration couldn't be far off, or would she be consumed first, in agony, turned into plastic before her body gave her freedom?

"TARDIS. Protocol One."  
"I don't - I don't understand -" Yaz whispered, holding her, tears dripping down her face. "Why didn't it work?"   
A voice reached her ears, distant and foggy.  
 _"Because she's not human, you fools."_  
Then the world went blissfully dark, and the pain faded into nothing more than a bad dream.


	8. Chapter 8

  
A pin could've dropped in the space. Machinery seemed to hold mechanical breaths, the voice, masculine and casual and cocky, an overtone of disgust as dark eyes surveilled the humans in the space. Even now, it was clear that he didn't want to be there, nose ever so slightly wrinkled and eyes as wide and manic as ever. Seeing him sent a jolt through Yaz's body, an electric current which made her heart pound and her fists curl instinctively, ready to hit him or arrest him or anything - except for the weight of the Doctor. She was still breathing, but it was ragged, her skin burning hot against Yaz's touch, blood dripping over her lips as she sagged.

Ryan jolted out of the frozen moment first, stepping protectively in front of their alien friend. Pride bubbled in Yaz's chest, and she wished she could too, only the Doctor was far heavier than she expected and keeping the form up was proving to be a challenge.  
Graham stepped up too, firm next to Ryan, and although there was a tremble in his hands and tears shining in pale eyes, when he spoke, his voice didn't waver.  
"You better clear out of here, sunshine," squared shoulders attempted to belie the heartbreak, "Because you do not wanna see what I wanna do to you if you hurt her -"

"It'll never make sense to me," sauntering steps brought the Master closer, and for all the casual overtones in his voice and movement, Yaz felt like she was watching a predator. A tiger, perhaps, lining up through the brush, getting ready to leap and kill. All forced calm and slow movement. "She insists on surrounding herself with you _ridiculous_ \- humans." he sighed, now, a long, low, steady breath - lips twisting into a laugh that seemed almost unnatural. "No, I've not come here to hurt her, and you _are_ going to get out of my way." he slid the miniaturization device from his pocket, pointing it evenly at Graham. To every credit there was, he didn't back down, although there was just a little more fear in his eyes. " _Sunshine_." the Master added, dripping with sarcasm, quirking an eyebrow.

"Oi! Don't threaten my granddad -" Ryan stepping forward, the Master turning the device to point at this new threat -   
"Don't." she wasn't sure why she spoke, but the word escaped her throat. Dry and scratching, she swallowed hard, looking into his eyes and surprised when he met them. "Ryan. Graham. Let him help." the Doctor made another noise and jerked slightly in her hands, forcing Yaz to change her grip, slipping down to her knees. Her knees caught in the pool of blood but she didn't care, focusing instead on trying to hold onto the Doctor. Most of her shoulder had been consumed, now, all sharp edges, and Yaz had to be careful not to cut herself on it, even if she was immune.

"Well, I mean, he's - he's the Master, innit cockle?" Graham floundered, "He tried to kill us! More than once, and - and the Doc -"  
"Yes, and I won't apologise," the Master drawled as he started approaching again, keeping his device trained on them, "But despite everything, I have too much planned to risk her going through regeneration again. Don't want to spoil the surprise." he chuckled.  
"Regen - you mean she's not dyin'?" Ryan frowned, trying to remember the very little she had told them about the event.  
"Yes, she's dying." the Master stood over them now, and Yaz looked up at him again, uncertain of the lack of maniacal energy she had seen before.

"She can't -"  
"She can, I'm afraid. And she will." he crouched, the shrinking device slipping out of sight, and Yaz wasn't sure if she should be more afraid that he thought he didn't need it. "Regeneration sickness is such a bore, and she's barely begun to enjoy this body." he murmured. "I'd rather not have to key myself to a new personality." a hand reached out, and Yaz tried to pull the Doctor away, but she couldn't shift her right. He tucked two fingers under the pale chin, tilting her head back a little, paper-white and blood dripping down her chin. Tiny curls of golden energy were rippling on her lips. "No time to waste, I think, dear." he whispered. 

"Get her up." this was snapped in Ryan's general direction. Straightening, he turned and whirled away, taking off his thick coat and placing it on the back of a chair.  
Scrambling, Ryan moved to Yaz's side and helped support the Doctor up. Yaz could feel the double-pulse, thready as it pounded against her shoulder. The Master moved to a table, shoving equipment away, where it shattered and fell on the floor. Papers were ruined, glass scattered, and he looked entirely unbothered. "There." a lazy point before he turned away again. 

Unsure why they were doing what he said, Yaz and Ryan carefully manouevered, Graham gripping her feet and pulling them up until she was laid out on the table, even if her feet poked off the end. Yaz sourced her shirt and folded it into a pillow so she at least looked a touch more comfortable.  
"She's not breathing." the realisation hit her like water. Graham scrabbled forward, leaning over to listen to her lips.  
"What - what do we do? CPR?" he asked, uncertainly, hands wringing.

"She doesn't need to breathe. Rassilon's sake, does she teach you nothing?" the insufferable know-it-all tone made Yaz want to hit him, but she restrained herself. His sleeves were rolled up, now, eyes turned away, holding a familiar bit of tech - one of those blood-extraction devices. Although it wasn't the one she'd used on the Doctor. "She had an emergency bypass system. If her lungs can't work, she uses that. It's automatic. It's why she's still alive." he frowned, drawing the encased needle back from his arm, looking at the blood inside it. "Bring me everything she had." he ordered.

After a breath, as she forced down every angry word, the same way she had done with every superior male or white officer who passed comment on her race, religion or gender, Yaz got up and collected the Doctor's documents. She took him the papers that he hadn't ruined, and the drugs she had created, as well as what remained of her blood sample.   
It wasn't like working with the Doctor, though. 

He stayed closed off, working without saying a word. Yaz hovered, uncertain, before backing away. They settled near the Doctor; without thinking, she took a hand, feeling for that pulse and using it as a point of comfort even if the Praxeus was covering her shoulder. Graham and Ryan sat with her, keeping a close eye on the Master as they did so.   
"D'you really think he's tryna save her?" Ryan mumbled. "Might be, I dunno, tryna chip her or -"  
"How did he know she was sick?" Graham interjected. "How did he get here?"  
Yaz stayed quiet. She realised that she didn't really care about these questions or the answers to them, all she cared was that the Doctor pulled through. That thready pulse was terrifying, really, and the idea ... 

"Time Lord hearing," the Master's words made all of them jump, the conversation dying, "Is rather remarkably good, compared to yours." he adjusted a setting on the microscope, "I advise you shut up, or leave, before I make it so you can never talk again. And!" he smiled, although it was that familiar, unbalanced, edge-of-a-razor smile, "Consider just how _polite_ I'm being."   
"Let's go, come on." Graham got up, Ryan standing too, "We'll go back to the TARDIS, make some sarnies. Yaz?"  
"I'm - I'm gonna stay here." she mumbled. "Just in case."   
Ryan nodded, glancing over at the Master.   
"Stay safe."  
"I will. Don't worry." the door swung shut behind them with a creak, leaving the only sound in the space the Master working at his microscope and the soft bubbling of the water filtration system behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

  
It was - strange, being in the same space as him. She couldn't help but think of O, studious and quiet and - so very different from the Master. The man who had tried to kill all of them, more than once, in fact. But his was different again. It was definitely the cold and cruel and yet somehow jubilant man who had threatened them, snatched the Doctor away, left them on a crashing plane. And yet, he seemed utterly focused on the task of saving her. Sleeves had been rolled up, hands moving smoothly over the equipment in front of him. He picked up a pipette, pulling something off a petri dish and dripping it onto the slide he was working on with a low hum in his throat.

A few strands of hair were falling into his face, and as she gentle squeezed the Doctor's hand, feeling the thready pulse, she wondered at why he would do this. He wanted the Doctor dead. He'd tried to kill them! Over and over! And yet here he was, going out of his way to save her. The police officer's brain was running through all the dozens of wild plans this could be, to try to kill the Doctor, and yet - all of them were instantly discarded. She was sure he was telling the truth. If he'd wanted her dead, he would've let the Praxeus consume her. And so she turned to thinking about what he said, about how regeneration would change the woman in front of her ... glancing down was a mistake.

Yaz could see how fragile her skin looked, paper-white, matching the shards of plastic that had entirely wrapped her arm. There was still blood, staining unpleasantly on her mouth and down her chin, the edges crackling now it wasn't coming up any more. The lack of breath was more alarming, too, and if it hadn't been for the beating underneath her fingertips - placed strategically against the Doctor's wrist, refusing to loosen her grip from the cold hand - she would have been sure that her friend was dead. Adrenaline still flooded Yaz's veins, making her heart feel like it was pulsing in her throat, and she didn't doubt some of that was to do with the Master being there.

A thousand questions sat on her lips, but right now, she didn't want to disturb him. The threat he'd made hung heavy, and so silence consumed the space. The machines hummed, the filtration system bubbled, and she could see his focus. His hands had moved from the microscope, and he was doing something with a vial, although she wasn't sure what. Most of it was hidden in the movement of his hands, swift and confident. She was still debating about what to ask him, deciding she could probably get away with one question, especially considering she had no plans to leave him alone with the Doctor.

The chair scraped and Yaz startled, tightening her grip on the Doctor as he stood, moving over to the centrifuge and tucking the vial he'd made into it. It whirred to life, and she cleared her throat, taking the opportunity.  
"How did you know she was here?" Yaz said, keeping her voice even.   
"She called me." he sighed, narrowing his eyes.  
"She - what?"  
"In here." he tapped the side of her head. "Maybe she wasn't searching for me, a little - cry for help, and I happened to be the closest. Been connected oh, such a long time. Why do you think it's so easy to catch her?" he shot her a sharp-toothed grin, and Yaz felt that overwhelming urge to hit him again.

"You seem pretty proud of the fact." her temper was getting ahead of her, unfortunately, but he laughed at that.   
"Oh, she never was good at letting go. It's why it rips her apart every time one of your lot dies." he chuckled and clapped his hands, "I can't wait to see how much it rips her up when she loses you. So very attached." he wrinkled his nose as he grinned, before looking back down at the centrifuge as it whirled away.   
"How ... how many of her companions -"  
"Oh, I don't know exact numbers." he scowled, "She goes through so many of them. Rather selfish, really. Can't help herself but get them killed." it shifted to a chuckle, "Maybe I'm a little less selfish than her."

"She's not selfish." Yaz found herself immediately defending the Doctor.  
"Isn't she? Sweeps in, takes you to the stars, and then, if you don't die, she'll get bored and dump you home. Rest of your pathetic little life on that rock, doing nothing, always aware of what's out there?" he tutted, "Selfish. At least I'm honest with myself." he shook his head, as the centrifuge powered down and he carefully slid the tube out, peering at it. 

"Is that a cure?" Yaz jolted.   
"Not yet." he murmured. "Getting there. Don't worry. She has time." he didn't even spare the Doctor a glance, going back over to the microscope. Yaz glanced down. She looked paler, even though it shouldn't be possible. The blood on her mouth looked more horrific, too. She reached down, resting her hand on the Doctor's chest, swallowing hard. Very weak, the double pulse of her hearts, and Yaz could see the little wisps of gold drifting off her lips. She had missed when the Doctor had done that before, but Ryan had mentioned it. These ones seemed to be hanging close, though, instead of floating away. They shimmered over her skin.

"Can't she heal herself?" Yaz found herself asking, "Without dying?" she frowned. "She hasn't - told us much. She said she can regenerate but she didn't explain -"  
"It's like she doesn't even care, isn't it?" he was looking over now, and Yaz tensed at the intensity in the deep eyes. "Aw. Poor little humans. She's so important to you, isn't she?" he scowled. "I'm sure it's not mutual."  
"Shut up." she hated how she sounded, like a petulant child. But he laughed, outrageously, clapping his hands again before looking back down at what he was doing.  
"Yes, she dies. Yes, it hurts. It always does. A lot of us, we had a bit of - mm, choice. We could make decisions, push our shapes whatever way we need. I never bothered. Like the adventure." he grinned. "But it always seemed, oh, so much harder for her. So much fun, to see her suffer."

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, adjusting the microscope with his hands.   
"She dies, and then her body is - mm. Consumed with energy. The same for all of us. Remade. In fire. A whole new personality, a whole new mind. Some things stay consistent, of course." he frowned into the microscope. "Her endless desire to be a hero, of course. That - never ending, insufferable smugness." he scowled.  
"You're plenty smug yourself." his lack of aggression was making Yaz feel a little more confident. The Master snorted.  
"I know my place in the world." he murmured. "I've made peace with it, but her ..." he shook his head slightly. 

The Doctor interrupted the conversation. An awful noise, a sharp cracking deep in her chest, and a rasp from her throat. Yaz turned, swallowing hard. Her entirely arm was consumed now, and her side was bleeding, the plastic sliding under the material of her bra, encasing a large chunk of her side. She seemed to be trying to cough, and Yaz hesitated, not sure how to roll her without slicing her hand open on the jagged Praxeus. Finally she wrapped her leather jacket around her palms, moving the Doctor carefully so she could retch and spit the nasty blood onto the floor. The Master's head turned, and he frowned. Not ideal. Running out of time, perhaps...

"Doctor. Are y'awake?" Yaz whispered, crouching by her face, wishing she could do something. Hazel eyes opened just a slit, but she seemed incapable of speaking, the thick liquid bubbling on her lips. "It's okay. It's okay. We'll have you fixed soon." she promised, trying not to let the tears flood her eyes. 

A shoulder shoved hers, and she stumbled away, anger already rising. The Master had barged her out of the way, now, and was leaning down a little, looking at the Doctor's face. He reached out a hand, and she had to fight the urge that pushed her to shove him out of the way. Fear curdled in her chest, sure he was about to hurt her, but when he reached out his hands were gentle. One rested on her cheek, and he frowned just a little, tilting his head as he leant in and murmured something in her ear. It was too soft for Yaz to make out words anyway, but it didn't sound like English. It was a rippling, melodic language, and she saw the Doctor relax.

He moved away, over to the water filtration system, and she shot back over. The Doctor's eyes were shut, still folded up on her side with blood dripping from her lips.  
"What did you do, what did you say?" she said, anger colouring her tone, too harsh and high to her own ears. There was no response but the clatter of whatever the hell he was doing to the machinery. "What did you _DO_ to her?!" she yelled, gripping the undamaged hand, but taking a step towards him.

"So tiresome." he responded, dismissive, "Do you have any use apart from being irritating? Shut up and sit down."   
God, she wished she had a weapon. She wanted to smack him, smug git, but her anger was waylaid by the swinging of the door.

Graham was poking his head in, Ryan nowhere to be seen.  
"We made sarnies, cockle, if you want some food. How's she doing?" his voice was hushed, like they were at a deathbed. Yaz swiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.  
"Not good. And this bastard is being useless -" she turned to gesture at the Master, but to her astonishment, he was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short one here, folks.

  
"Where'd he go?" Yaz stiffened a little, eyes swinging wildly, darting between the immense filtration system, the desks, but there was no sign of him. Was there a backdoor into the lab? If there was, she hadn't seen it. Squeezing the Doctor's hand, feeling that thready but at least present double pulse under her fingertips, allowed Yaz at least a little grounding. But the Master doing a vanishing act was terrifying no matter what, and she clutched a little tighter.

"What?" Graham frowned.  
"The Master, he was here a second ago," Yaz murmured, "Where the hell did he go?"  
"We didn't see him come out." Ryan said, brows quirking, peering behind himself like the Master was going to be lingering there. Yaz hesitated, not wanting to step away from the Doctor.  
"How's it been?" Graham dropped his voice to a murmur, "Still bein' himself?"  
"Yeah..." she said, softly. "I dunno. It's like he wants to tell me about her, all this stuff, but he's stoppin' himself. She woke up, a bit, and he said somethin' to her - language I've never heard, but I couldn' understand it." she explained, shifting uncertainly on her heels.

"She seems to be down again, though..."   
"Looks real bad." his voice was so soft that Yaz could only just hear him, but the worry in it was clear. "Yaz..."  
"Don' say it." she whispered, covering her mouth with her spare hand, "Graham, we ain't gonna lose her. Won't let that happen."   
"But where's the Master gone? He just - what, upped and vanished?" Ryan stepped out of the space, letting the door swing behind him, footsteps fading down the steps. 

She looked down at the Doctor's pale form as Graham approached, looking at the streaks of blood and the gaunt edges. They never would've allowed Yaz to touch for this long, she mused, stroking her thumb over the back of the Doctor's hand.   
"She still not breathin'?" he murmured. "Looks like she's -"  
"Alright. I get it." Yaz said, shaking her head, "Don't, Graham. Please." moving her free arm, she rested it on the older man's shoulder, swallowing hard.

"So dramatic." came a lazy sigh, and she jolted her head up, seeing the Master come swaggering across the room. "Humans, honestly... she's not going to die."   
"Where the hell did you come from!?" Graham spoke before she could.  
"My TARDIS." his eyebrows raised a little, holding up a vial, "How did you think I found my way here, after all?"

"But y'were outside -"  
"Oh, a magician never reals his secrets, Yasmin. Remember that." he smirked, and she felt Graham's shoulder tense. "I thought I'd gotten rid of you all." he sighed, but moved towards the Doctor. She tensed, squaring, but he waved a hand dismissively.   
"Get out of the way. Unless you want to see her explode into powder?" the acid in his tone was ever so clear, but Yaz narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He was adding the cap onto the vial now, slipping a needle into place.

The decision was made for her. Slender pale fingers twitched then suddenly tensed around hers. Hazel eyes flickered open, unfocused, an attempt at breathing which rattled like a dozen chips in a blender. Coughing raggedly, the Doctor jolted.  
"Oh, no - hey - hey - Doctor?" Yaz whispered. Pressure closed around her wrist, there was a shoulder in her face, pushed away, shoved violently backwards. She lost her grip on the Doctor's hand, a cry of offense, Graham moving to deflect -

The Master had physically barged her back. She could hear his ragged breath, like a wild animal panting in her face, so close - she was sure if she'd breathed deeply she would smell raw meat.   
"What in the hell are y'playin' at!?" she shouted, not sure what Graham was saying but his voice was in her ear too. An arm smacked across her chest as he moved her back.  
"Shut up." something manic shone in the dark eyes, and all her confidence evaporated. That aggression she'd felt towards him warped into fear, a tightening in her own throat, stronger than any fist that might wrap around it.

"Stay back."   
She peered over his shoulder, looking at the Doctor on the table. She was twitching, her hands tightening - or rather, the one that could move was. There was plastic crawling up her throat as she started to jerk. Her movements were violent, the table rattling as she jolted. The noises, like something was crawling out of her throat, something boney breaking - Yaz twisted away. She moved from the Master, and buried her face into Graham's shoulder. She couldn't watch as the Doctor convulsed, the foul sounds of her thrashing and the dripping of blood from her lips onto the floor.

"What's happening? What - why's she -"Graham breathed.  
"The Praxeus has reached one of her hearts." The Master responded, his tone almost amusement. "It's going into shutdown." he stepped away, apparently sure that Yaz wasn't going to try to push past, "Even unconscious, she's stronger than you. As entertaining as it would be, letting her break your hand is not worth the earache." he taunted Yaz lightly.

Stepping away from them, the Master made his way to the Doctor's side. He roughly moved her just a little, so that she wasn't choking. There was a loud rattle, and her head jerked back. The Master was quicker, supporting her, preventing her from smashing her head into the table. An unpleasant crack rippled around the space, a sharp hiss slipping from the back of his throat. But Yaz knew better than to say anything. Finally silence filled the room again, and she risked looking. The Doctor was still, plastic popping unpleasantly from her neck. Her eyes were open, just a slit, and if it wasn't for the Master's movement, Yaz would have assumed she had died.

"Well. All the drama, Doctor." he was murmuring, gingerly moving his hand, "Let's get this over and done with."   
Finding the needle, he slipped it into her neck, and depressed the plunger without more than a breath between them.


End file.
